be nonchalant with screws ._. paint

[angelembrace]

"they flip the siren, hit the lights" ✭ ── Paint. It had the texture of slimy, cold mud and made twice the mess. He believed somewhere deep down that he should have taken a liking to the colored substance, given his young age. However, much like with the mud that seemed to have covered literally everything, Angel hated the feel of paint. It was awful, and would take forever to get out of his fur. Although, seeing the lazy lizard getting painted was quite a sight. Eyes widening at the crime scene displayed before him, Angel paced around the outside of the paint covered section of ground, tail twitching as the tiny furs along his lower spine prickled and stood up. For a moment he though he had even stepped in the paint left behind, and a tiny cub growl was emitted to very clearly show his displeasure in the feeling. Not that it was intimidating, his proper growl hadn't even come in yet. He was still a baby, despite all his efforts to not be viewed as such. "Where did paint come from?" He asked with a hint of distress, scraping the bottom of his paw against the ground to rid himself of the blue tint. No thank you.